


The fallen and the mighty

by Rangerka39



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Character, Fix-It, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Túrin has a massive crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 09:12:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19460911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rangerka39/pseuds/Rangerka39
Summary: Beleg finaly found the outlaws Túrin accompanied himself with. Unfortunately, Túrin is away in that moment, and the outlaws have no mercy. And even though his friend comes to rescue him, more problems emerge - Túrin doesn't want to come back home to Doriath, breaking both their hearts a little. Because Túrin has a crush on Beleg as big as the mountains of Pelóri, an Beleg is no better.Available in Czech on Wattpad.





	The fallen and the mighty

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!  
> I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed making it. However, I have to apologize for my english - it is not my first language and I still struggle with grammar and spelling a lot. So when you find an error, please tell me so I can improve, since this is my first work in english.  
> If you understand Czech language, you can find this on my Wattpad profile. It's already finished here. Link's here https://www.wattpad.com/story/217045017-padl%C3%AD-a-mocn%C3%AD. It might wary in phrasing and such, as the whole story was partly writen in both languages, and I'm not good at translating.

Beleg, you see, was a marchwarden. Therefore, he was not spoiled with constant silk-covered matresses and rich meals. Howewer, it being more than a day since the outlaws tied him to a tree, not believing Belegs words about his relations with their captain, Cúthalion was growing more and more tired, his feet burning with stagnation. Furthermore, they gave him no food or water, making it two days since he ate for the last time.

He could not believe that Túrin, mighty, brave and righteous friend of his, would stand himself accompanied by such men, wolf-like in their ways and faces. Cruel they were to him, and, Beleg believed, they would have been more cruel, were it not for their fear of Túrin. They did not believe his words, still he might be speaking true, and in that case their captain would be very angry if they were to kill him.

"I don't think the elf will speak. I don't even think he knows shit, probably just lying to save his ass," stated Andróg. The sight of the elf, standing proudly erected even after long hours of it, and his scornful gaze on them, was outrageous for the outlaw, proud even in his fall.

"As I said, my business is with your captain, my words are not for your ears. I shall speak when he is present," Beleg responded, calm as always, event when a shadow of doubt grew on his heart. Túrin might be dead, and if these men were to think that, they would surely kill him.

"If you have something for our captain, it's also for us. Tell us, and we'll give him your message and set you free," tried Andróg to bribe him with sweet promises.

"I doubt your words. You will not set me free unless your captain commands it."

The man growled, obviously angered by what he thought to be arrogant and cocky answer.

"We can make you talk," snapped another outlaw. Beleg doubted that. It certainly would take more than their dirty knives and fists to break him. Alas, that did not mean it would not be an unpleasant experience. He remained quiet this time, for he wished not to anger them more.

"We will," decided Andróg, obviously a leading figure in the absence of their captain. 

Luckily for Beleg, not everyone agreed.

„But what if Neithan comes back?“ one of them spoke up „If this man will prove to be his friend, and he will find his friend hurt? Remember what happened to Forweg?“

As he spoke, many men nodded, agreeing with his reasons. As far as Beleg could judge, twas caused more by fear than by pureness of heart.

„You are a scaredy cat, Algund, you always were. And you are old. I doubt Neithan is alive - he and Orleg were killed by orcs,“ he said, turning to his companions to convince them. „This elf haunted us for very long. Why shouldn't we get some revenge? Get rid of his spying? I don't trus a word he's saying about his bussines with Neithan. Besides, we are not killing him - if we don't make him talk, he can still tell him himself.“

This reasoning seemed to convince others, which concerned Beleg a fair amount. They all stood up and formed a semi circle around the tree he was chained to, unorganized and shoving each other away, mumbling excitedly.

Andróg emerged from the line of outlaws, large knife in hand. He stared into Beleg's eyes with bloodlust, trying to intimidate him. He had enough bravery in him to maintain his gaze for a few seconds before looking away, ashamed and defeated.

Few could stand the eyes of Beleg Cúthalion on them for long. Túrin always could - trough a sheer force of stubborness. But then, the human child was always an enormous riddle for Beleg, being the one and only human he came to know. How could he judge whether his strange behavior was caused by his humanity or by, well, by simply being Túrin.

He held onto his memories with his dearest friend as Andróg's fist hit his stomach, and tried to replace cold and biting blades with the warmth of Túrin's rare smile.


End file.
